


Revelations

by 30xf



Series: 201 Days Of X Files [59]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:51:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30xf/pseuds/30xf





	Revelations

The first year we worked together, Scully was like a little kid leading up to Christmas. There was a sparkle in her eyes whenever she talked about it--which was every day. She talked about traditions her family had upheld her entire life, and she had been looking forward to living them once again. She got her traditional Christmas that year, thankfully, because she'll never have it again. Her father died not long after, and the following year, Scully didn't mention Christmas at all. Her family still celebrated--she even invited me over for dinner, but I declined. When I asked her how it went the next day, she just forced a smile and said it was good. The sparkle was gone. And this year will be the first Christmas without her sister. I can't imagine how much she is dreading the holiday this time around. It is only two weeks away now, and of course she's made no mention of it. 

The Bureau's Christmas lunch is going on upstairs, but we're down in the basement, working away. I usually avoid the lunch anyways, but even last year, Scully wandered up to have some turkey and mingle with the other agents. She even brought me back down a plate of food. This year, however, she sits in the other room of our office, comparing autopsy results for a case we're working on. 

"I don't find any anomalies here, Mulder," she sighs as she approaches my desk. "I think we're wasting our time."

I nod and take the files from her, looking them over even though I don't understand it as clearly as she does. Scully leans a hip on the desk and waits. But instead of discussing the case, I change the subject. "You heading upstairs to grab some lunch?" 

I look up in time to catch the end of her eye roll as she sits opposite me. "No, I'm not in the mood for turkey. I brought some crackers and an apple."

"You need to eat more than that," I tell her, though I know it falls on deaf ears.

"I'm fine," she forces a smile, taking one of the files back and opening it to have a distraction from the conversation at hand. 

"Well I'm hungry," I announce, standing. She doesn't look up at me, but I see her eyebrow raise. I was hoping she'd make some comment or do something to stall me, but she's quiet. I am in no rush to go up to get rubbery turkey and lumpy mashed potatoes with watery gravy, but she's calling my bluff. "You want me to bring you back something?"

"A bottle of water would be good, thanks," she says, still perusing her file.

 

When I return ten minutes later, carefully balancing two plates of food with a bottle of water tucked under my arm, Scully is sitting at my desk, reading a new file and eating her apple.

"I got enough to share," I tell her, setting down a plate heaping with turkey, potatoes and gravy with two forks shoved in it. The other plate is piled with a variety of desserts, made and bought by other agents. I slide her bottle of water over to her.

"I told you I was fine," she sighs, eyeing the plate of desserts anyways.

Ignoring her comment, I pull an envelope out of my back pocket. "Passed the mail cart on the way. This came for you," I tell her, handing her the envelope. 

"Thanks," she takes it and looks at the front, frowning at it before setting her apple down and opening it. There are two papers in it, and her eyes well up a little looking at the first one. She quickly moves on to the second one and I can see her fighting back tears.

Worry gets the better of me and I move to stand behind her. "What is it, Scully?" I look at the envelope, where 'Agent Dana Scully' is written in a child's careful printing. The address of the Hoover building is written underneath in an adult's careless scrawl. She hands me the first paper, a drawing. It is of her and a young boy, holding hands, with a Christmas tree in the background. It's fairly detailed, having been drawn in pencil crayon. Three different shades were used to achieve a reasonable facsimile of Scully's hair colour. Her black over coat shaded in dark, and her gold cross necklace standing out in bright yellow. In the same careful printing, it says, 'Merry Christmas Agent Scully' at the top, with 'Love Kevin' at the bottom. "That's a pretty good likeness of you there," I comment, unable to stop a smile from spreading across my face.

Scully nods, not looking up. She still has the other paper--a letter--in front of her. It's not a long letter, and she must have finished reading it by now, but I suspect she's trying to compose herself. Despite assuring me she wasn't getting personally involved in Kevin Kryder's case, I know she couldn't help but do so. It's been a couple of weeks now, but I know she's been checking up on him. Or trying to, anyways. She'd been making regular calls to his social worker to keep tabs on him, but there wasn't much information to get. "He's in a foster home," she manages finally. "He says the parents are nice and they have two sons that he likes to play with. He gets to visit his dad, and his hands have stopped bleeding."

I place a hand on her shoulder, and I'm about to comment, when she gets up and leaves the room. I hear the bathroom door close down the hall, and I assume her emotions got the better of her. The letter is left on the desk and I take the liberty of reading it. If she had meant it to stay private, Scully would have taken it with her. It reads mostly like a letter from any kid, writing home from summer camp, or something. It begins with 'Dear Agent Scully', written neatly at the top and describes just what she said. What she left out was the end of the letter. Near the bottom of the page, Kevin wrote, 'I knew you were the one. Thank you for protecting me Agent Scully.' And again, he signed, 'Love Kevin.'

I had been skeptical the whole case. Of the stigmata; of Kevin's father's message to Scully; of Kevin himself; and of Scully's feeling of personal involvement in it. If she'd have listened to me, Kevin would be dead. I look again at the picture Kevin drew. It's no mistake that Scully's cross is so prominent. I lean against the desk, still examining it. It occurs to me that I never apologized to Scully for doubting her. And I don't even know if I need to. Proof, as always, has eluded us. I look up at the cork board on the wall, covered with stories of alien abductions and other strange occurrences. To the left is the poster that's always stayed there, uncovered. 'I Want To Believe'. Occasionally, Scully or I will put a sticky note somewhere on it when we're feeling clever or disheartened. I sometimes add one that says 'Don't' between the 'I' and the 'Want'. Scully is fond of putting one on the UFO that says 'You Are Here'. At the moment, I think I have the perfect addition. I take a pin from the bottom of the board and stick Kevin's drawing there, so that it covers the entire UFO. 'I Want To Believe'. Perhaps the perfect apology to Scully.

I turn to find her in the doorway, and I wonder how long she's been there. Her eyes are a little red, but she looks composed. She looks past me, at the poster and it's recent addition, and that's when I see it. The sparkle in her eyes. It's barely there, but it's returned all the same. She smiles and gives one slow nod before coming back to sit at the desk. "So...I think an even split of this food is the turkey and potatoes for you, and the desserts for me."

Smiling, I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and sit back in the chair across from her, ready to share our terrible Christmas lunch.


End file.
